


I Wanted You

by GintokisGirl95



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Because it's me of course, F/M, I mean it, Sexual Content, Starkcest, Tags Are Hard, Tags Are the Work of the Devil, very little plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 20:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GintokisGirl95/pseuds/GintokisGirl95
Summary: "What the hell was that about anyway?"Arya shrugged. "I wanted you."





	

He didn't even hear the door creak open or have time to react to the alabaster arms that swiped to and fro on the table when all the books and papers that were on his desk made their way haphazardly to the floor, the books fluttering open and the sound of flapping pages loud in the room as they hit the surface. Feather quills fell lightly, sealed and empty inkpots clanked, and his goblet hit the floor with a twanging thud. Startled at the sudden noise, his curious eyes found the cause of it all, wrapped in his cloak, _his_ \- he was wondering where it had gone - and holding its edges around her sylphlike frame. 

"By all the gods, Arya, look at this _me_ \--" But what was going to come out of his mouth didn't matter, nor did the ruin she created have any importance. None of that mattered now, because Arya's frustrated mouth was upon him as quick as lightning, hot and wet and bold as hell. Even her hands were desperately buried in his hair, forcing him closer, dragging him down. He couldn't help the moan that mingled with her own as their tongues slid against each other, following one another.

She pulled off his cloak and tossed it across the room, revealing her thin white gown; it was see-through, almost, and he could easily make out the curve of her womanly body and her pinkish nipples hardening in the wintry air. He sucked in a cool breath and hissed as she removed the garment, and he felt as if couldn't reach her soon enough. He stalked around the table until he was directly in front of her, his frame towering over her own, and he tilted her head and gave her a kiss that was more teeth than lips, claiming her, possessing her. His hands found her waist and brought her closer, all to make her feel just how hard he was. For her, always her. She growled, breaking away only to yank at his breeches, nearly tearing off the laces as she forced them down. Her hands desperately tugged at his smallclothes, deft fingers raking over his cock. 

"I don't give a damn if they hear us," that sultry voice of hers nearly gave way as she uttered the words so breathlessly. She kissed him again, full of need. "Jon, let me be selfish. Just this once."

Jon acquiesced, tearing off the clothes that pooled around his ankles, removing his tunic and tossing it to the side to join the pile of his clothing, watching as Arya slipped off her gown and subsequently dropped to her knees and ran his cock between her soft, sweet lips. She murmured his name against his cock, swirling her tongue around the head, kissing it before taking him in. Arya's head bobbed slowly while her hand was firm at the base, stroking, moving synchronously with her pace. Her smoky eyes barely left his own, and her free hand held a thigh to keep him still, to get him deeper. Jon felt the warmth of her mouth all around him and it made him sigh, threading his fingers through her hair to encourage her.

Jon decided immediately that he liked this side of her, and he wondered why they had never done this before. 

"Arya." She looked up at him curiously, with a hint of mischievous amusement glinting in her dark eyes, her tongue still caressing his shaft. He disentangled his fingers from her hair, stepping back. He didn’t realise how close he was to coming until that moment. "Stop. Not so soon." He grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet, kissing her hard again, feeling even more aroused when he tasted himself faintly on her lips, to his confusion. 

He then saw her with her lip caught between her teeth and that look on her face, that smug, teasing look. "Don't bite your lip," he snarled. "You know what that does to me."

But she did it again, that mouth of hers curling into a smile, and Jon groaned. " _Fuck, Arya._ "

With a quick lift he laid her down on the bare table, showering her with rough kisses that swelled her lips and bites that would surely bruise tomorrow. But right now...he knew she didn't care about any of that. His hands cupped her breasts and he bent down to suckle a nipple, then the other, finding himself even harder when she squirmed underneath him, that friction from skin against skin, running her fingertips across his scalp and feeling the harshness of her nails biting his skin. And _ah,_ hearing her say his name was enough. 

He pushed his hand down, grinning, slipping past the thatch of soft dark hair that greeted his fingertips. Arya was impossibly aroused; just a single brush brought back a sticky wetness that coated his fingertips completely as well as a moan tearing from her throat, so loud that someone -- _anyone_ \-- would have heard. For once, he didn't care if anyone heard them. Mayhaps he even felt a little thrill from possibly being discovered. 

He plunged one finger, then two, feeling a need to replace his fingers with his mouth...but that must wait for another time. 

She sighed his name, and the sweet song of her voice filled his mind as his fingers probed, digging deep, twisting and twirling, curling and feeling. When he pulled away, he rose his wet fingers to his lips and licked them clean. He grinned wickedly, his gaze mimicking the same stare she gave him earlier. In an effort to stop his teasing, Arya pushed herself up and pulled him down to her again, groaning in his mouth, that growl of hers returning when Jon laid her on her back once more.

It wasn't long before Jon pushed down Arya's thighs and entered her with a single hard, forceful thrust, one hand travelling up to her throat while the other gripped her waist, giving him control, driving him deeper. When he snapped his hips, he looked down and saw her turn her head, gasping as she wrapped her slender legs around his narrow waist, her arms reaching for him, crying out for him. 

_Gods._ Her hands gripped his arms, digging and loosening with each thrust; the sounds of her moans were driving him insane already. Jon leant down and curled his body, replacing his hand with his mouth, sucking and biting, snapping his hips just to hear her voice, hear his name.

And hear it he had, over and over between growls, pants, and moans that filled the air and rang in his ears. _I won't last long..._ The feel of her tight heat around him was becoming almost too much to bear.

_Too perfect._

" _Jon,_ " she gasped. "I'm--" Arya cut herself off and choked back a cry when she came, clinging onto him as she shook, clenching around him, her desperation to get closer noted in his mind. She bit his neck as her final wave of pleasure came over her, her breath heavy and hard on his skin; he felt the pulse of her heart thumping loudly against him. He needed that, needed to hear her as she came, needed to feel her skin against his and that ragged breath of hers filling his ears.

Jon only lasted for three more thrusts, and through gritted teeth and growled curses did Jon spill his seed inside of her, coming so hard that he saw bits of black dot his eyesight. Somewhere in the back of his mind had a little voice prayed that his seed would find purchase, but he forced himself to ignore it. With a shaky breath and an ever-softening stare, he pulled out of her, his eyes never leaving her body, always trailing, always roaming. His hands were on either side of her body, completely out of breath and sated. 

He looked down at the floor when his sight came to. Everything was all around them, showing just how big a mess Arya had created -- pale wax all over the floor, opened books not where they should be, rolled parchment and opened letters scattered, his clothes in two melted puddles, his cloak a third and her sheer gown a fourth. He did not feel like cleaning this mess. He wanted to laze around with Arya, on that spare bed just a stride away, or to at least lead her to his room, mayhaps carry her there and take her again, more slowly this time. He wanted that more than anything.

"This room is a disaster, Arry, seven hells." He wanted to scold her, but the way her grin was lopsided and the tip of her tongue caressed her teeth was enough to stop his words. He arched a brow in curiosity. "What the hell was that about anyway?" Jon was still struggling to keep a steady breath, watching Arya shrug underneath him, just as breathless as he. He moved to let her stand, and she grabbed his tunic from off the floor and pulled it over her head, and he liked the way the material hung loosely on her body, reaching to the middle of her thighs. 

"I wanted you." She stated the obvious so nonchalantly and it made him chuckle. He hadn't felt this light since he was but a child. 

"That's a very _simple_ way to put it, don't you think?" 

"Sometimes the simplest answers are the best ones." She smirked. 

She seemed so triumphant, and _oh_ , she won this time.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've last written something, anything at all, really, so I'm a little rusty. Still, I wanted to try my hand at this once more while I had the chance.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
